"but broken crayons still colour the same, you see." you said to the furious eight-year-old girl in front of you.
"it's your fault, ma!"
said the girl who had just a minute ago accidentally sat on her crayons and broken them.but obviously, it was your fault. because i said so.
"i'm sorry."
you kept saying, but it couldn't be heard over my constant "i hate you, i hate you, i hate you."but you still kept apologizing, as you rocked me to sleep in your arms.
YOU ARE READING
broken crayons
Short Storystatus: completed. "running, running, running, screaming. tripping, falling, hurting, bleeding." a daughter's second chance at love. #itsnotaphase PUBLISHED NOW. AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND FLIPKART ORDER NOW.